No
Time Like the Present
part
5
Hammalot
Baloo and Kit were tied back-to-back to a charred stake in the middle of a grassy courtyard. Under their feet was a big pile of firewood. Everyone in the realm, from the lowliest peasant to the King and Queen, was in attendance. After all, it wasn't every day that they got to see a good burning at the stake.
The court jester strolled amongst the crowd, strumming on his patched up lute and singing to the tune of 'Greensleeves': "The strangers will burneth, their eyes will sting, much to the delight of the Queen and King..."
Baloo muttered, "I'd like ta make somethin' of his sting." He tried to wriggle his bound hands, but the knots were too secure. He couldn't even move his pinkies. Slumping against the stake in defeat, he said, "Well, guess this is so long, Li'l Britches. It was nice knowin' ya."
Kit, whose was concentrating on freeing his hands, said absently, "Yeah. Same to you, Papa Bear." When he had loosened the knot enough to slip his small hands out, he murmured a triumphant, "But I'm not burned yet."
Feeling Kit working on his ropes, Baloo grinned. "It's really nice ta know ya."
Following a loud trumpet fanfare that rendered half of Hammalot deaf, Sir Spigot clanked up to the royal box where the King and Queen sat on their outdoor thrones, shaded from the hot sun by a striped canopy. Removing his helmet and handing it to Dunder, who stood respectfully behind him, he bowed theatrically, then said, "Thy royal highnesses, honorable knights of the Sound Table, beautiful ladies of the court..." He flashed a simpering smile at the women.
The king barked, "Keepeth it short, Sir Spigot!"
Spigot cleared his throat. "Anon, we art about to burneth yon strange strangers..."
Under his breath, Baloo interjected, "Nobody's stranger'n you, shorty."
"But before the strangers art toasted to a crispeth, perhaps you'd like to hear of my latest-eth dashing deeds, sire."
"Another dragon, Nozzle?" the apathetic King said while the crowd groaned.
"It was as tall as a full-grown oak and a wingspan of a hundred eagles. Thou shouldst seen the destruction it caused in the forest. Whole trees snapped in two."
"It made-eth a big mess," Dunder added.
"But the scurvy beast was no match for Sir Spigot! One well-placed jabbeth with my lance and the dragon was silence-eth. Sire, mightest I request that thy royal highness and thy lovely wife," the Queen stopped gobbling a mutton leg long enough to look disdainfully at Sir Spigot; "travel to yon dell two hilltops over to see-eth the carcass of this great beast?"
The king snorted impatiently. "If it existeth."
The other knights snickered. They knew Sir Spigot's reputation for tall tales.
"But it does existeth, sire! I sweareth it does!" Sir Spigot cried.
"Verily!" Dunder waved the tube of liniment above his head. "The strangers brought this out of the belly of the yellow dragon."
"What manner of strange substance is that, pray tell?" the king asked languidly.
"The strangers call it liniment. It getteth helmets off, stoppeth squeaks, and has a goodly taste."
The queen perked up her ears. She snapped her fingers, prompting the page to seize the liniment from Dunder and bring it to her. After tasting one drop, she smacked her lips, smiled, and squeezed the entire tube into her mouth. She then grunted, "Good! More!"
From atop the pyre, Baloo yelled, "We got a whole bunch of that stuff back in the plane, er, yellow dragon. We'll give it to ya if you let us go."
"They masteresth the yellow dragon?" the king said, showing slight astonishment.
Everyone's eyes turned to Baloo and Kit, who were now untied, but trying to act as if they weren't.
Dunder nodded furiously. "Aye. They toldest me so."
A gasp ran through the crowd. Everyone stepped a few paces back from the stake.
"Listen, folks, this is all a big misunderstandin'. Ya see, this mornin' me an' Kit were..." Forgetting that he was supposed to be tied to the stake, Baloo stepped to the edge of the woodpile.
From within the amazed crowd, two people shouted: "Howst he came to be freed?" and "They must be great sorcerers, indeed!"
"Great sorcerers?" Baloo said wonderingly, looking behind him. Seeing no one there but Kit, he squeaked, "Us?"
The king demanded, "If thou art a sorcerer, show us thy magic."
Baloo gulped. "Magic?" Glancing helplessly at Kit, his mind raced to remember any of Louie's magic tricks.
Kit shrugged and murmured, "Nothing like a command performance." He didn't like the fact that they were surrounded by knights with swords that could mince them into itty-bitty pieces.
"Magic now!" the king commanded loudly.
Getting a sudden idea, Baloo began digging through his shirt pocket. "Gimmee a sec, your majesty."
"What are you doing?" Kit whispered.
"Lookin' for my matches."
"Matches?" Kit echoed, his voice cracking. "That's the last thing we need right now!"
"They want sorcerers. They're gonna get sorcerers." Finally, Baloo located his matchbook and tore off one match. Holding it up, he boomed, "Behold! With one flick of the wrist, I'll set this ordinary stick on fire."
But no matter how many times he struck the match against the strip on the back of the matchbook, it refused to light.
Chuckling nervously, Baloo said, "Must be defective." He tossed that match aside and tried another one. To his immense relief, it lit.
Collectively, the awestruck Hammalottians murmured, "Ooo!" As in one accord, they bowed deeply.
"Now that's more like it!" Baloo basked in the glow of fame. When the flame scorched his fingers, he shook the match to extinguish the fire.
The king said, "O mighty sorcerers, because of thy unlimited magic and thy powers over dragons, thou shalt be rewarded."
Taking his burnt finger out of his mouth, Baloo beamed at Kit. "This is gettin' better an' better."
"Thou art to accompany Sir Nozzle and Knight-in-Training Dunder on a quest. A quest to destroyeth the dragon that liveth in the Dragon's Den."
Baloo blanched. "Dra...dra...dragon's Den? With a real, live fire-breathin' dragon?"
The king drawled lazily, "What other kind of dragon be there but fire-breathing? Now, go. I tireth of thee."
With another blaring trumpet fanfare, the crowd dispersed. Baloo and Kit had just hopped down from the stack of firewood when Dunder approached them.
Shyly, Dunder said, "Wouldst thou great sorcerers honor me by staying at my humble abode?"
Baloo shrugged. "Might as well, unless ya got a Hammalot Inn?"
Confused, Dunder replied, "But we are-est already in Hammalot."
Baloo chuckled. "Never mind. How many knights have made it through this dragon quest, anyhoo?"
"None," Dunder replied as the threesome crossed the courtyard and ambled down the hill from the castle towards the village.
"None?" Baloo and Kit echoed, alarmed.
"The dragon moved into the cave a fortnight ago. Before that, the Dragon's Den was calleth 'the really large hole in the hill'."
"An' we get to be the first ta face it," Baloo said glumly. "Swell."
"How do you know a dragon lives in the cave?" Kit asked as they stopped before a modest, one-room, drab-brown, thatched-roof hut, which was exactly identical to its neighbors.
Lowering his voice, Dunder said, "All day and all night, there are fearsome noises and spurts of fire from deepeth within the Dragon's Den as well as earth-shaking rumblings that can be feltest all the way here in Hammalot." He smiled shyly at Baloo and Kit. "I am relieveth knowing that I havest two brave sorcerers with me on my quest."
"Yeah. Sorcerers," Baloo murmured uncertainly. Every muscle in his body was taut, ready to flee to the Sea Duck, away from Hammalot and a prospective dragon's quest.
Kit asked, "Where is the cave? Is it far from Hammalot?"
"Nay, 'tis not far. It is but over the river and through the woods."
"To grandmother's house we go," Baloo sang.
Dunder flashed him a puzzled glance before pointing across the river to a hilltop shrouded in haze. "Ifeth the dragon's smoke wasn't so thicketh, thou couldst see the opening of the cave from here. But come, we must resteth so that we mayst start on our journey at dawn's first light." He entered his hut with Baloo and Kit on his heels.
Dunder's
Hut
That
Night
While Kit nibbled half-heartedly on a bland boiled turnip, he looked around at the one room that served at Dunder's humble abode.
Jeepers, Higher for Hire is a palace compared to this place!
He, Baloo, and Dunder, sitting on upended empty wine casks, were gathered around a rough-hewn table near the fireplace. The room was dark, for the two windows cut in the bare walls were covered with oilcloth. The only source of light was a sputtering fire in the stone fireplace, which also filled the air with an acrid smell of smoke. The firelight cast weird dancing shadows over everything, especially Dunder's suit of armor standing in the corner by the door. A black iron pot hung over the fire where a few small turnips bobbed in the stale, brown water. Barely discernable over the crackle of the fire and bubbling of boiling water were the faint sounds of rats squeaking and scurrying on the thatched roof. Overhead, from the bare rafters, hung scraggly bunches of turnips and onions. In one corner of the dirt floor was a crude bed of straw that Dunder had graciously offered to Baloo and Kit.
It wasn't much, but to Dunder, it was home.
Dunder fished a mushy turnip out of the pot and asked politely, "Wouldst thou like some more boiled turnips?"
"No, thanks," Baloo said hastily, hoping that his host didn't see the turnips that he had surreptitiously dropped on the floor and buried with his toes. They tasted worse than whatever Louie scraped up for his All-You-Can-Stand-For-A-Dollar Special.
"I'm full," Kit mumbled, putting a hand over his growling stomach. He didn't want to eat all of Dunder's meager supply.
Dunder pushed back his pewter plate and rose from his seat. "Ifest thou don't mind, I'm going over to Sir Spigot's. He saidest I needest more instructions before tomorrow's quest, and I needest to polish his armor."
"Isn't he coming, too?" Kit said.
"Nay. He toldest me that he's slain so many dragons that it wouldst be unfair for him to assisteth."
After Dunder left, Baloo and Kit swivelled on their casks to face the fire. Now that the sun had gone down, the evening was chilly as evidenced by the wind whistling through the chinks in the walls.
Baloo leaned backwards against the table, resting his elbows on it. "No matter when or where, Spiggy's still the same ol' blowhard with the same short temper."
"Is that a short joke?" Kit lisped in imitation of the diminutive knight.
Baloo's chuckle trailed off into a longing sigh. "Man, I sure do miss Becky's cookin'." He tossed the remainder of his turnip into the fire, causing the flame to sizzle.
"Yeah." Kit's stomach growled again. A few overcooked turnips weren't enough to satisfy his voracious teenaged appetite.
For a while, Baloo and Kit stared into fire, each lost in their own thoughts.
Kit broke the silence with: "I'm sorry, Papa Bear."
Reluctantly, Baloo awoke from his pleasant reverie of roast beef, mashed potatoes, and Rebecca sitting opposite him. He looked over at his son. "For what?"
"For getting us stuck here." Kit twiddled his thumbs nervously. "I wouldn't blame you for being mad."
"Mad?" Baloo said, surprised. "Kid, I ain't mad."
"Really?"
"Naw...accidents happen," Baloo said, pushing himself up from the table. He gingerly shifted on the uncomfortable cask. Giving Kit one of his rare stern looks, he said, "But I am kinda disappointed. Disappointed that ya didn't trust Becky an' me enough ta tell us that your watch busted instead of runnin' off to Buzz like a scared rabbit."
Matter-of-factly, Kit admitted, "But I'm used to doing things for myself."
"I know, kiddo, but ya don't gotta do that so much now that ya got me an' Becky lookin' after ya. Ya gotta let us be the parents once in a while, ya know."
"Yeah, I know," Kit mumbled contritely. Meeting Baloo's eyes, he said, "Does this mean that you won't ignore me anymore?"
"Huh? You say somethin'?" Baloo teased.
Kit, pretending to be annoyed, playfully punched Baloo in the stomach. In turn, Baloo pushed Kit's cap down over his eyes before putting an affectionate arm around the boy.
Mischievously, Kit asked, "And you won't talk about Rebecca all the time?"
"I don't know 'bout that." Smiling dreamily, the big bear added more to himself than to his son, "She's one special gal."
"Yeah, she is." Kit smiled, his thoughts returning to the memory of his mother's tender goodnight kiss. Then, his smile faded. Quietly, he asked, "Think we'll ever see her or Molly again?"
In the space of a moment, Baloo's face grew old. Swallowing hard, he whispered, "I hope so, Li'l Britches. I sure hope so." His arm tightened around Kit as they returned to staring into the glowing embers.
Later That Night
Baloo, resplendent in bright medieval garb, sat on a grassy bank beside a bubbling brook. The moonlight made it as almost as bright as day. He strummed on a lute not unlike the court jester's and sang to the tune of "I Dream of Jeannie": "I dream of Becky with the glowing green eyes. She'll whack you with a rain spout if you tell her lies..."
His song was curtailed by Covington streaking past him, screaming, "Heeeeelp!"
"What in the...?"
Feeling his lute being snatched from his hands, Baloo looked up to see Rebecca standing over him. Her glowing green eyes held a terrible demonic expression that made Baloo shiver in fear. Fused to her right hand was a large key, pulsating with a light the same hue as Rebecca's eyes.
"B-Becky?" Baloo said warily.
The demon Rebecca fixed her gaze on him, her unearthly eyes narrowing. A low growl escaped her throat. Then, catching a glimpse of Covington zigzagging blindly around the trees in the forest, she hungrily licked her lips, raised the lute over her head, and bounded off, disappearing into the forest.
"Mommmeeee!" Covington yelled as he emerged from the forest. Desperate to get away from Rebecca, the jaguar jumped into the stream and waded across.
Rebecca growled, "We could make beautiful music together, Covington," as she splashed in after him.
"Becky, come back!" Baloo shouted aloud, waking himself. Heart pounding, he looked around, dazed, at the darkness. He chuckled with relief. "Just a dream. Becky with green eyes? Nah, that'd never happen." Feeling straw instead of a mattress beneath him and remembering his predicament, his face crumpled with anguish. "Oh, Becky..."
Kit, who had been awakened by Baloo's outburst, lay very still in the straw, listening to his father's stifled sobs and wishing that he was a sorcerer so that he could fix the entire mess with a wave of his magic wand.
When the sobs were replaced by snoring, Kit rose, brushed the straw from his clothes, tiptoed past Dunder sleeping peacefully on the bare floor in front of the cold fireplace, and wandered outside. He sat down on a cask just outside the door and hugged his knees to his chest to conserve warmth. Everything was quiet save for a dog howling mournfully and the clinking of the guard's armor as he paced the castle parapet. The stars sparkled overhead like diamonds on black velvet.
He wished with his whole heart he was home in his own comfortable bed in his own room with his family nearby. The sleepy slosh of the harbor outside. A gentle breeze whispering in the branches of the elm tree. The familiar nighttime sounds of Cape Suzette in the distance.
When Kit's stomach growled, he pulled his knees closer to his chest and tried to pretend his hunger pangs away as he had often done during his street urchin and air pirate days. But he found that he couldn't. Living at Higher for Hire during the past year and a half had rendered the old trick unnecessary.
Sitting huddled on the cask, hungry and alone in a strange, unfriendly environment reminded him too much of his life prior to Higher for Hire. As if a dam had burst, carefully buried memories of the hard, harsh days and cold, cruel nights flooded into his mind, threatening to crush him under a wave of despair and heartbreak.
As tears pricked his eyes, Kit became aware of an object pressed against his chest. It was his pocket watch, the symbol of his adopted parents' love, reminding him that he was wanted, he belonged somewhere - even if it was centuries in the future. He wished that he knew how it worked so he could transport himself and Baloo back to their own time, away from Hammalot and dragons.
His thoughts shifted to the quest they were going to embark on in the morning. Was there a real dragon? Surely not. They were only things of medieval legends.
Just then, a spurt of fire flew up in the sky over the hilltop where the Dragon's Den was. It was closely followed by a muffled roar and a slight tremor of the earth.
Staring at the stream of fire blazoned against the dark sky, Kit shivered, not entirely from cold. He'd encountered many outlandish things during his short, yet full, life, but never a dragon.
What if we never make it home?
The Next Morning
"We art here," Dunder proclaimed. Sunlight glinted off his armor as he carefully dismounted from his noble steed.
"So soon?" Baloo stammered, toppling off the horse that he and Kit shared.
"Aye. There 'tis," Dunder said, pointing with his gauntlet as Kit nimbly hopped down and helped Baloo to his feet.
The threesome stood in front of the Dragon's Den and gazed into the large, black, gaping mouth of the cave. A steady stream of smoke issued from within and swirled into oblivion into the sky.
"Still wishest that I hadst armor to offer you brave sorcerers," Dunder said hesitantly.
Feeling anything but brave, Baloo said, "Forget it, Dundee. It'll make it easier for us to skedaddle without that extra baggage. Come to think of it, I'll just stay out here an' keep watch."
"But we have to help the good knight," Kit reminded him.
"Goodnight is right. One puff from that overgrown lizard an' we're dust."
Kit gave Baloo a reproving look. "Don't be such a baby."
Dunder lit the three torches that he had brought and gave one each to Baloo and Kit. "Art thou ready?"
"Knights first," Baloo said with a nervous chuckle. "We sorcerers don't wanna hog the fire...uh, spotlight."
Dunder unsheathed his sword, then entered the cave with Baloo and Kit right behind.
"Couldn't ya go on a safer quest, say, takin' on a fish?" Baloo said, his trembling voice echoing throughout the cave. "I've met up with some pretty mean catfish in my day."
As they slowly, cautiously traveled deeper and deeper into the cave, Kit secretly thought that if there was a dragon living there, he'd chosen a poor home. The young navigator wasn't particularly impressed by the dripping walls or the cold, damp floor. By torchlight, the spooky shadows of overhanging stalactites looked like fangs.
Just then, a loud roar reverberated through the cave accompanied by a slight earthquake. A sprinkling of dust fell from the ceiling as well as a small rock that bounced off Dunder's helmet.
"I don't feel too goodly," Dunder said, slightly dazed.
"That's it. I am leavin'!" Baloo exclaimed, heading back towards the entrance.
Before Baloo could get far, Kit caught him by the hem of his shirt. "Dunder's counting on us, remember?"
"Don't tell me that you didn't hear that!"
"Sure, but I don't believe in dragons. They're myths, legends, fairytales."
"No fairytale made that noise!" Once again, Baloo attempted to bolt, but Kit's hold on his shirt held him back.
"Come on, Papa Bear." Taking Baloo by the hand, Kit dragged the petrified pilot along behind the Dunder, who was clanking in his armor.
After approximately a half hour of trekking deeper and deeper into the cave, there was another, louder roar followed by a second, more powerful earthquake that caused the dragon hunters to lose their balance and tumble to the ground. Mingled with a rumbling so loud that they could even feel it throughout their bodies was a loud cracking and popping noise. It was growing louder by the second.
First, a few small pebbles started to rain down on them. Then, larger rocks mercilessly pelted them.
"The cave is cavin' in! Run!" Baloo bellowed as the torches were snuffed out, leaving them in total darkness.
Kit scrambled to his feet. Ignoring the sharp pains that the falling rocks inflicted, he blindly stumbled through the downpour of rubble with only his strong navigational instincts to guide him towards the entrance. Behind him, he could hear Baloo's yelps of pain and the hail-like sound of pebbles striking Dunder's armor.
When the rocky downpour ceased, Kit stopped running. Every inch of his bruised and lacerated body ached. Tasting blood, he swiped a hand across his mouth and peered into the all-encompassing darkness.
"Papa Bear? Dunder?" he panted. His voice seemed to echo forever.
When he received no answer, fear crept into Kit's heart. "Papa Bear?" he called louder.
He waited for what seemed like hours, then relief flooded over him when he heard Baloo groan, "Oh, man! This dragon hunt is gettin' ta be a real drag."
"Where are you?" Kit asked frantically, his eyes straining to see through the darkness. Because of the cave's echo, he wasn't sure what direction his father's voice had come from.
"Here, this might shed some light on the subject," Baloo said, striking a match and lighting his torch.
Overjoyed, Kit carefully picked his way across the mounds of sharp, jagged rocks. When he reached Baloo, he threw himself into his arms for a hug. "Where's Dunder?"
"Helpeth! Helpeth!" came the knight's faint mew.
"This way," Baloo said, taking off in one direction.
"No, this way," Kit said.
For a few minutes, father and son searched through the rocks for any sign of the knight.
"There!" Kit cried, glimpsing shiny object protruding out from under of a pile of rocks.
"That's one way to get rocked to sleep. Start diggin', partner," Baloo said, rolling a boulder to one side.
After a few minutes, the knight was unearthed.
"Are you okay?" Kit asked, pushing up the visor of Dunder's helmet. By the flickering torchlight, he thought that Dunder's eyes had a dizzy look.
"Aye," Dunder murmured dazedly. "Mightest I sleep a little more, Mother? The chickens can waiteth for their breakfast."
"He's fine," Baloo chuckled, knocking against the knight's helmet. "Packed snugger'n a sardine in a tin can."
"Yeah, but I'm afraid Dunder's quest isn't fine," Kit said quietly. "Look at that."
Where the cave's ample tunnel had been, there was now a wall of rock stretching from the floor to the ceiling.
Despairingly, Dunder said, "How willith I get to the dragon now?" He imploringly turned towards Baloo and Kit. "Thou art sorcerers. Canst thou make yon wall disappear?"
"'Fraid our magic ain't that strong, Dundee," Baloo said with a sad shake of his head.
"It's not completely blocked. Look!" Kit pointed upwards, near the top of the wall, to where a shaft of light streamed through from the next chamber.
"Aw, even if we could climb up there, we couldn't fit through that dinky hole."
"I might," Kit said thoughtfully.
"Are you kiddin' me, kid?" Baloo said incredulously. "Do you wanna give me more grey hair?"
"But Dunder needs to slay the dragon to be a knight," Kit said earnestly, "and we promised that we'd help him."
Baloo scoffed, "We got shanghaied into searchin' for that dragon."
With his arms crossed resolutely, Kit said, "We still promised, and my father always told me to keep my promises."
Baloo muttered under his breath, "Musta picked up that stubborn streak from Becky." With a reluctant sigh, he said, "Okay, son, but if you see even one toenail of that dragon, you vamoose back here, got it?"
Kit nodded and Baloo lifted him to his shoulders.
Kit grabbed hold of the rock wall and nimbly climbed hand over hand the rest of the way up to the opening. He then peered through the hole. At the end of the tunnel, which was approximately ten feet long, was a warm, orange glow as of fire.
"See anything?" Baloo called anxiously.
"Not yet. I'm going in." After giving a thumbs-up to Baloo and Dunder below, Kit hoisted himself into the tunnel. There was barely enough room for him to squeeze in. Grunting with exertion, he crawled along on his belly, pushing himself along with his knees and elbows. As he advanced, the light at end of tunnel grew brighter.
"C'mon," he murmured to himself as he blinked dirt out of his eyes. "Just a little farther..."
Then, when he was but two feet away from the end, he heard a low rumbling. A moment later, the tunnel began to shake and dirt rained down on him, causing him to cough and choke. Afraid of being buried alive, Kit redoubled his speed.
Finally, his hands felt air. He wriggled his shoulders free, and, kneeling on the tunnel, his fingers blindly groped among the rocks on the outer surface of the wall for a handhold. Finding one, he swung himself out of the tunnel and clung to the wall for dear life.
But with rocks pelting him from overhead and the wall shaking beneath him, he couldn't hang on long.
"Aah!" Kit yelled as he slid down the wall, an avalanche of rocks tumbling down with him. He landed on floor with his shirt torn and the wind knocked out of him.
Almost as soon as he hit the ground, the earthquake stopped. When the battered boy finally looked up, he saw that the tunnel that he had climbed through had collapsed. In the opposite direction, beyond a large mound of recently-fallen rocks came the hazy, orange light.
He was trapped with the dragon.
End of part 5